


Crescendo

by titansatemysoul



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Episode Ignis Verse 2, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 14:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18143141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titansatemysoul/pseuds/titansatemysoul
Summary: There was no way to turn down an invitation to the reopening of Insomnia's symphony hall, and no fault of the orchestra performing that neither Ignis nor Noctis were particularly keen on attending. They simply had better things to do. Better things meant for the bedroom.





	Crescendo

His first mistake was letting Noctis kiss him, at all.

“Of _course,_  people are going to look,” Ignis whispers as he tries to discretely shoo Noctis off. “I’m sure they’re looking now.”

“It’s just kissing,” Noctis mutters, again drawing Ignis’ attention away from the show below them. There was no way to turn down an invitation to the reopening of Insomnia’s symphony hall, and no fault of the orchestra performing that neither were particularly keen on attending. They simply had better things to do. Better things meant for the bedroom.

“Noctis," it starts as scolding but, unsurprisingly, Ignis can’t follow through. He can only hope the darkness of the theatre keeps any roving eyes from getting a clear picture of Noctis, who’s practically climbing over the divide between their seats to get at his neck.

“Why are you sweating?” He asks, licking up the muscle. Ignis shifts in his seat, craning his neck away from Noct, even though it only betters the access to his target. When all else fails, Ignis pulls him up, slipping his fingers beneath Noct’s collar, demanding his attention. He can taste the salt on his lips and in his mouth, sating a craving he wasn’t aware that he had. Noctis, as usual, is quite pleased with himself, shrugging off the sport jacket confining his range of motion.

It _is_ just kissing. Until it’s not.

Until Noctis gets bored, because the show is only half way through and he’s never had any feelings about classical music and Ignis is too easily, and wonderfully, flustered.

At the very least, Noctis has the good sense to take a quick survey of those also seated in the private boxes that curve around the mezzanine of the venue before folding himself over below the railings. At least they’re solid rather than slatted, because he’s undone Ignis’ belt before he can even react.

“This is immature,” Ignis hisses, reclaiming control over his trousers, barring Noctis from going any further. “Have you no self-respect?”

It’s half teasing, half not, but either way Noct ignores him. Sucking Ignis through is trousers is almost worse than sucking him bare, and he knows it, relentlessly puffing out hot breath that warms the thick fabric and biting the bulge that quickly crops up.

“I don’t need self-respect,” Noctis leers up at Ignis, pulling at the hand protecting the clasp of his trousers. “Everything is more fun without it.”

Ignis exhales loudly through his nostrils. It’s annoying, the way Noct can so carelessly push the boundaries of human decency when he feels like it, and still rise so high above it when he must. Speaking feels too much like a surrender somehow. The self-satisfied smirk on Noct’s face as Ignis undoes his pants and pulls them and his underwear down is bad enough.

“What if I was joking?” Noctis asks, glancing up at him through long, dark bangs that hide his face even more than the shadowed booth. Ignis glares at him, cold, dry air already sending uncomfortable shivers down his spine from his exposed cock. How he always ends up the wanting party when Noct is the one to start such things, he’ll never quite understand. How he ends up the one to start touching himself, with dozens around and hundreds below, because he can’t resist while Noctis looks on, will always infuriate him.

But Ignis certainly isn’t going to do this alone. He refuses, and Noct is still in his lap, wincing when he’s taken by the hair and pushed down properly, lips slipping over the curve of Ignis’ knuckles.

“Just ask next time,” Noctis whispers, shifting in his seat for a better angle. Ignis has to grip onto the arms of his seat, eyes squeezed shut as Noct’s warm, wet mouth encircles him. He opens his eyes just in time to see a fellow patron of the arts look over at him, by chance most likely, and it takes everything he has to keep his face neutral, especially since Noctis chooses that exact moment to dig his hand between his legs, fingers creeping around his sac.

“Someone’s looking,” it comes out horribly, a combination of unintelligible and high pitched, raising the volume of his warning. But that only seems to make Noctis double down, one finger sliding back further beneath him, as if to threaten more while he draws back to lap at Ignis’ tip and leaving the rest of him cold. Ignis tries to focus himself on the show, tries to do anything but look directly at the spectacle in his lap. He tries to direct his moans to the pit of his stomach, the low easier to stifle than the ones that come when Noctis tilts his head to suck on various spots on his shaft, hard enough that were it anywhere else, marks would be left in the hours to come.

“It’ll be your own fault if someone sees you,” Noctis says, and even in the darkness Ignis can see the glint of spit hanging off the edge of his lip. “I can’t keep you from making a face.”

“Just _finish_!” Ignis moans, petting Noct when he goes back to sucking. There’s nothing to be done about anyone else by now, and there’s no point in denying that Ignis doesn’t want to look at anything else but Noctis, hand meeting lips as he picks up his pace. The wet sound of it all coupled with the suction of his mouth seems to echo, mortifyingly loud. Ignis can only suffer, endlessly grateful for the crescendo that seems to be coming in time with his own. He can’t hold back his own sounds anymore, grunting through his bitten lip. The skin threatens the break until he has no choice but to let go, a breathy ‘ _ahh!_ ’ escaping just as the music quiets again.

This _does_ draw attention, all the wrong kinds as patrons on both sides look to their booth. It’s horrifying, and with no other option, Noct is pushed down, all the way to the base of Ignis’ cock, ensuring that the King of Lucis is completely hidden from view. Ignis tries to pretend he can’t see them, looks on straight ahead like he’s intensely engaged in the solo that’s begun on stage. He hides his grunt behind a cough when Noctis pinches his hip, making Ignis relax his grip enough for him to breath.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Ignis nearly cries, still firmly keeping Noct down. “Don’t move.”

This should make Noctis stop, or at least pause. It does, for a second, but if there’s a way to take advantage of a moment, Noct will always find it. He runs his tongue up and down the shaft, slipping his arm behind the small of Ignis’ back beneath his jacket, pulling him flush to his lips. Noct may not be able to move himself, but he can move Ignis enough to keep his cock sliding inside his mouth.

Discretion must be a lost cause by now, Ignis simply can’t hold it together any longer. His blush may be hidden, but he’s no hope of hiding the look on his face. It’s disconcerting for the occasion, mouth hung open and body slumping forward as Noctis makes him come, running his nails on his lower back over his shirt as his throat contracts with every stream of come running down.

Ignis whimpers when Noctis finally sits up, licking a combination of saliva and come off of his bottom lip.

“Get yourself together, Iggy,” he whispers, a slight husk in his voice making Ignis shudder as Noct kisses his cheek. “We’re expected back stage when this is over.”

**Author's Note:**

> tfw when you completely forget an entire fic - written in July 2018, unearthed tonight while looking for my wifi password :D


End file.
